


but you're a king and i'm a lionheart

by porthos



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Geographical Inaccuracies, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4843379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porthos/pseuds/porthos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongdae is a prince of a far-off land and Baekhyun is the knight sent to collect and return him for the king to marry in exchange for land and title of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [chenpionships 2015](http://chenpionships.livejournal.com/), but I couldn't finish in time. Thanks very much anyway to the mods for being so kind and understanding and for running a great fic fest!
> 
> To the prompter of #426, I'm very sorry I couldn't participate in the fest, but if you ever read this, I hope you enjoy it anyway. :)
> 
> Please note that this fic takes place in an alternate universe, unspecified time and location. I borrowed bits and pieces from different historical cultures (a little bit medieval, a little bit Joseon, even a little bit from the ancient Chinese because honestly my biggest inspiration for writing were the costume dramas and wuxia series I used to watch—and BBC's Merlin XD). Also pay no attention to the geography; there are no similarities between the places mentioned in this fic and their real-life equivalents apart from the names.

_Your Royal Highness,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. I have received your latest missive, including your request for a discreet convoy. While I would rather have you escorted to my kingdom—our kingdom, your new home—with great dignity and fanfare, for I know that my people will see you and admire you upon sight, I shall concede to your points._

_Jongdae-ah . . . you have always had a way with words, and I fear I shall never be able to deny you anything._

_Perhaps it is unfitting for a king to admit such a thing, but will you forgive my yearning heart?_

_As you wish, I shall send only one emissary to meet with and accompany you to Seoul. There is nothing more important to me than your safety and well-being, so I have selected the very best man for the job. Sir Baekhyun is young—about your age, by my estimate; I do hope you will find him to be an agreeable companion on the long journey back—but he is brave and honorable and skilled, with a strong desire to prove himself. I trust he will protect you with his life and deliver you safely home, where I shall wait for you most ardently._

_Since I expect this to be our last exchange before your arrival, I have endeavored to make it brief. There are many things I would like to say to you, of course, but now, more than ever, I look forward to the day you become my husband and consort, and I can tell you my deepest thoughts—in person._

_I wonder, are there also secrets you would share with me?_

_Be well. I shall see you soon._

_I am, ever yours,_

_Junmyeon_

  


♚

  


The letter was creased, having been folded and unfolded repeatedly since it reached Jongdae a fortnight ago. Still, Jongdae couldn't help but devour its contents one more time, tracing his finger lightly over the words that he had likewise learned by heart: _our kingdom, your new home, the long journey._

_I shall see you soon._

Jongdae smiled, curling the note against his chest. Sehun would tease him if he were present—partly because he was a terrible excuse of a manservant who had no qualms about mocking his master, partly because he'd already caught Jongdae in the act the day before— _and_ the day before that—and he'd muttered under his breath about "dumb princes" and "dumber kings" and "when's that schmuck knight supposed to come anyway; he's _sure_ taking his time" the entire candle mark he took to make Jongdae's bed. (And Jongdae's bed was not lavish, for a prince; the boy was really just _that_ awful at the basic requirements of his job.) But Jongdae's smile had only grown bigger, wider, as he broke his fast and patiently ignored Sehun.

The thing was, Jongdae knew two things Sehun didn't. Actually, Jongdae knew many things Sehun didn't, for the prince was older and wiser and also extremely well educated, while Sehun was just unmotivated enough to avoid his calling as the court jester. Pertaining to the letter, however, there were two elements that Jongdae had not shared with his manservant, despite their tendency to tell each other _everything_ , no holds barred. Two elements that made him smile uncontrollably, enticing him to read those auspicious words again and again.

The first thing had to do with the author of the letter, the young King Junmyeon. Sehun had never met the king, and Jongdae had technically only met him once before, many years ago, when he was still a child and then-Prince Junmyeon had visited with his parents for Jongdeok's investiture as heir to the throne of Siheung. Jongdae's memories of his betrothed were patchy, like an artist's palette—if you examined it carefully enough, you could convince yourself to see art in the mixed pigments themselves. Jongdae only remembered an older boy, already too solemn and too stiff for his age, who had seemed less like a boy and more like a boy _who had been trained since birth to become a king_. Jongdae would often place his memories of Junmyeon side by side everything he knew about Jongdeok, who was warm and funny and doted on him, and decide he was grateful that his brother had been spared whatever malady that generally afflicted crown princes.

But then Junmyeon began writing to him.

Jongdae had received the first letter on his sixteenth birthday. Polite but distant, formal and, worst of all, _boring_ , it echoed everything he thought he knew about his betrothed. It was, however, an invitation to familiarize themselves with each other, to become friends, as Junmyeon had suggested. Jongdae had thought about how weird the idea was, to befriend someone with whom he was already promised to spend the rest of his life. Beyond that, he couldn't think of any reason _not_ to, so he wrote back, and then Junmyeon responded, and then it was his turn, and so on.

The more Junmyeon had written to him, the better Jongdae became at taking those colorful pigments and transferring them onto the canvas of his mind, until one day he realized he had something like a half-finished portrait. He was even somewhat _fond_ of it and relished every opportunity to add a stroke here and a dab there, each letter from Junmyeon bringing him closer to a complete picture. 

Before long, what started as an overture of friendliness grew into an official courtship. Junmyeon's letters never quite lost their decorum over the course of their correspondence, but it did not surprise Jongdae when they began to adopt a more romantic spirit—or at least Junmyeon's attempt at being romantic, which Jongdae found simultaneously awkward and endearing. He still thought Junmyeon was somewhat of a stick in the mud, but it was no longer impossible for him to envision a future where the Crown Prince of Seoul was _his_ stick in the mud. 

Then Junmyeon's father died, and Jongdae's prince was suddenly a king.

Jongdae waited and waited, but it took a long time after that for another letter to arrive. When it finally did, Jongdae hesitated to read it, fearing that time and distance and grief would change the easy rapport they had built. Instead of any regression, however, he found in the letter maturity (not new), forwardness (new)—and a fervent petition for Jongdae's hand in marriage (very new). It confused him at first, since they'd been betrothed for as long as he could remember, but it was for that very reason that Junmyeon implored him to truly consider the proposal. 

He offered Jongdae a choice.

That was _definitely_ new.

As dazed as he had been by the offer, Jongdae did not take the decision lightly. He begged his brother for advice and made lists of pros and cons. He even humored Sehun by letting him weigh in with his opinion, though he'd promptly and willfully forgotten most of what was said in _that_ conversation. Finally, he thought about his mental portrait of the king, about the blank canvas he'd started with and the myriad of colors he'd added so far. Then he thought about the negative space, about what was missing still—and wondered if there was room to find himself there.

And he said yes.

Of course, his answer pleased the king, whose letters thereafter continued to reveal the struggle between Junmyeon's regal dignity and unexpected tenderness. He always managed to sound so stuffy _and_ sappy at the same time that the discrepancy was, in fact, the first of two things that Jongdae found endlessly delightful. He just couldn't possibly describe it to Sehun, who would never forgive his master for expecting him to care about something as trifling as aristocratic propriety.

The second thing had to do with the recipient of the letter, and it was this: Jongdae's deepest desire was to escape the confines of his childhood home (okay, some might call it a castle, and some might be correct) and see what was out there in the world with his own eyes. As a young prince, he'd never been allowed to venture beyond the palace grounds on his own, never made it that much farther even with the company of his parents. He'd never thought about how his way out would involve moving toward a _different_ castle, but at least the distance between the two was far and wide, and there would be plenty to see on the journey ahead. 

He couldn't wait, and it was hardly a secret. Sehun was well aware of his ambition. They'd talked about it often enough over the years, Jongdae dreaming of all the things he'd see and do, all the people he'd meet and maybe even help, and Sehun pointing out all the improbabilities of his elaborate fantasies. But Jongdae would guess that even his closest confidante could not understand the depth of his desire, would not feel the promise of adventure that radiated from the page, so there was no point in trying to explain it to him. Jongdae didn't think it would be appropriate to share these feelings with his parents or brother either, so he kept them mostly to himself—only allowing his elation to show in the curled corners of his lips.

He was still smiling, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, when Sehun finally barged into his chambers and screeched, "What! Are. You. Doing??"

Jongdae just grinned. "Good morning, Sehunnie."

Sehun narrowed his eyes, spying the page that had fallen to the prince's lap. Amused, Jongdae watched as his manservant marched over to the window and yanked the curtains apart with a triumphant _hah!_ He looked annoyingly pleased with himself as Jongdae tried to recover from momentary blindness.

"Well, _Your Highness_ , while you've been lazing about in bed, flogging your log over that vomitous love letter, guess who's here?"

"What are you talking about?" Jongdae whined, still trying to block the sun from his vision. "Who? And when did you get to be so vulgar? Honestly, Sehun, I think you spend too much time with those rotten stable boys."

"Never mind that," Sehun said, scowling. He came over and tugged back the bedcovers, trying to pull Jongdae from their grasp. "Your dumb knight is here!"

"Oh!" Jongdae leapt out of bed and tumbled into his manservant's arms. Ignoring the immediate complaints about his clinginess, Jongdae wrapped his arms around Sehun's broad shoulders and positively _vibrated_ with excitement. (Occasionally Jongdae would play up his energy because it was fun to make Sehun, who had the personality of a particularly ill-mannered cat, squirm, but there was no need to play-act this time.) "Really? He's here? Oh my god, he's here! Why didn't you wake me sooner!"

Sehun sighed. "I hate you."

Jongdae smacked a loud, obnoxious kiss against Sehun's cheek before shoving him aside. "He's here!" he shouted again and then raced over to the window, where he pressed himself as close to the glass as possible. Sure enough, there was a strange new carriage and several tired-looking horses in the courtyard below. He couldn't spy any knights amongst the guards and servants milling around, though, so he figured Sir Baekhyun must have been ushered inside already.

"Quickly, Hun-ah," Jongdae said. He spun around to find Sehun lounging on his unmade bed, propped up on one elbow, looking bored and sulky at once. Jongdae tossed a pillow at Sehun's face. "Come on! Get up and help me get ready. Today is the most important day of our lives, Sehun. _The most important_. We can't waste any more time."

Jongdae was already halfway undressed when he heard another deep sigh. "Have I mentioned how much I hate you?"

  


♚

  


"Wow! Everything here is so tiny. Tiny land, tiny castle, tiny people . . . Baekhyun, look, tiny _people_."

"They're called _children_ ," Baekhyun said, half-amused, half-exasperated, as he narrowly avoided crashing into one. "They tend to be small. We have them in our land too. Chanyeol, stop—"

Too late. Chanyeol, who was more legs than person, bumped into one of the little girls running around after her friends. Baekhyun cringed, expecting tears, tantrums—nothing less than a disaster within ten seconds of walking onto their host's property, as these things tend to go with Chanyeol present—but there were giggles instead. Chanyeol had caught the girl, sweeping her up and into the air, and was swinging her to and fro cheerfully. 

"Hello, miniature human!" he said. "Hello!"

"Put her down," Baekhyun said, looking mildly horrified as the other children swarmed around them with their arms up. They, too, wanted to fly, and as much as he would love to play with their new friends in other circumstances, that was _not_ the mission Baekhyun had signed up for. "Chanyeol!"

"Okay, okay." Chanyeol carefully landed the girl back on her feet and pat her head. "Sorry," he said to a chorus of groans and whines, jerking a thumb at Baekhyun. "Adults, am I right? Gotta go."

Baekhyun rolled his eyes and continued walking through the corridor, trusting that Chanyeol would follow once he managed to shake the kids off. Ahead, an attendant was leading their party of two to the Great Hall, where, he'd been told, the King of Siheung had gathered his court to greet them. Baekhyun didn't want to keep them waiting and make a bad impression right away. Or at all. He knew how important this was to their sire.

Chanyeol had complained about their assignment when he'd heard about it. "Escort?" he exclaimed. " _Escort?_ Why don't you just call it what it is— _babysitting_. Babysitting, Baekhyun! Some bubble-headed prince! What, he couldn't have sent anyone else? We're knights."

"I'm a knight," Baekhyun corrected absently, despite his efforts to tune out Chanyeol as he packed. Unfortunately, Chanyeol was hard to ignore. "You're my squire."

" _And_ your best friend," Chanyeol added indignantly. "So. I'm telling you, as your best friend, and also as a _knight-to-be_ , that this mission is crap. It's not even a real mission, probably. Maybe the king just wanted to get rid of us for a while, hmm? Did you think about that?"

In truth, at first Baekhyun _had_ wondered why King Junmyeon had chosen them, and only them, to go collect his future husband instead of one of their many ambassadors, who would have been more suitable for these kinds of diplomatic pursuits. Before he had a chance to express his curiosity, however, Junmyeon went on to describe the rustic charm of Siheung and all the wonderful things and people he'd seen there when he'd personally visited in his youth. He emphasized what a pleasant experience it would be for Baekhyun and Chanyeol and how he wished he could accompany them—if he didn't have a country of his own to run.

The more he listened, the clearer it had became to Baekhyun how close this quest was to the king's heart—or if not the quest itself then certainly its end result. Baekhyun figured that Junmyeon was exaggerating the appeal of the journey and of Siheung, as well, but there was no doubt that his eyes lit up whenever he spoke of that little kingdom where his prince resided. 

Of the prince himself, Junmyeon was more reserved—at least he tried to be. He didn't mention him more than was necessary in granting Baekhyun the assignment, but the slight quiver in his voice and soft look in his eyes were more than enough evidence for Baekhyun to realize: His king was anxious, excited, and quite obviously lovesick. 

The poor sod. 

And as soon as he realized this, Baekhyun also concluded that the king must hold him in great esteem to entrust him with such responsibility: the protection of his . . . well, his happiness. Touched, Baekhyun promised that he would fetch Prince Jongdae and reunite them as soon as possible.

"It would be my honor," he pledged then, and he meant it. Chanyeol might disagree, but Baekhyun knew with all of his heart that there was no greater quest than one in the name of love.

So as he stood in front of the Great Hall with Chanyeol by his side, waiting to be announced, Baekhyun was already thinking of the next steps. He wanted to be quick and efficient, to uphold his promise and return to Seoul with the prince at the earliest possibility. The journey _to_ Siheung had been smooth—Chanyeol's spirits had lifted as soon as they were out on the road, so they had as much fun traversing the land as they always did, and it only took them a little over a week to arrive. 

Going back with a such precious cargo in tow, however, could take double the time, if not longer. He and Chanyeol were used to camping and living off the land, but he imagined that a pampered prince would require proper lodging and regular meals. They would be taking breaks more frequently, especially to let the horses rest, and going into towns or villages to spend the night—occasionally in territories that belonged to neither of their kingdoms. 

While they were experiencing a period of relative peace right now, Baekhyun knew better than to let down his guard. It would be in everyone's best interests if they disguised as commoners along the way, Baekhyun thought, but he had no idea what the second prince of Siheung was like, if he would agree, or even how many attendants he'd want to bring. The more people, the more complicated, the more attention they would draw—but it would still be his duty to lead them all safely home. 

Baekhyun let out a small sigh, bracing himself.

"Here we go," Chanyeol whispered loudly. The massive wooden doors of the Great Hall creaked open, and Baekhyun could hear the chatter inside die down as he was introduced:

"SIR BAEKHYUN OF BUCHEON."

Baekhyun took measured steps walking to the front of the hall, Chanyeol two paces behind him all the way. He kept his eyes on the king the entire time, showing confidence—but not arrogance—as an agent of Seoul, and bowed respectfully as he approached the throne.

"Your Majesty," he greeted, "King Junmyeon sends his deepest regrets for not being able to come himself."

"My dear son-in-law is a busy man," the King said. He didn't look fazed. "Siheung is happy to receive his best and brightest." Next to Baekhyun, Chanyeol perked up, grinning at the compliment he no doubt took very personally. There might have been a flash of a thumbs up too. It made the King laugh.

"My squire, Chanyeol," Baekhyun said, somewhat sheepishly.

In turn, the King introduced his wife, the Queen, and eldest son, Prince Jongdeok. They were a handsome family, Baekhyun thought, but the star of this show was obviously missing. 

"Where's Prince Jongdae?" Chanyeol asked eagerly. 

"Our son had a late start this morning," said the Queen, apologetic. "His servant is fetching him now."

Chanyeol sent Baekhyun a Look. Baekhyun knew he was trying to communicate telepathically, which was definitely _not_ a thing no matter how much Chanyeol made them practice—but then again, he also knew what Chanyeol was trying to say: _high maintenance_.

They were making small talk about the latest going-ons in Seoul when the doors of the Great Hall again swung open. Baekhyun turned to find two young men racing toward them. Well, he supposed, one was racing; the taller, scowlier one was technically being dragged along.

"PRINCE JONGDAE," came the announcement.

"Present!" the young prince called, panting. He was nearly doubled over, trying to catch his breath. "We're here. We made it."

"Your Majesties," muttered the other boy. He bowed, too, although it looked a little unnatural, like he wasn't _used_ to bending his body that way. If he was a servant, he was the strangest one Baekhyun had ever met, but a glance at the royals showed that they didn't find him odd or offensive at all. The Queen even looked fondly upon _both_ the latecomers. 

"Jongdae-ah," said the King, "Sir Baekhyun and his squire, Chanyeol, have come from Seoul."

Baekhyun watched as Prince Jongdae straightened up, smiling brightly, and swiftly approached— _Chanyeol_.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Knight," he said, shaking Chanyeol's hand enthusiastically. "I've been waiting a long time!"

For once, Baekhyun thought, Chanyeol looked a little lost for words, his mouth hanging open as he looked at the prince helplessly. "Well, I—I'm not a knight yet," he recovered after a moment, "but almost? And thank you? I guess? Uh, Baekhyun? Want to jump in here?"

"Jongdae," Prince Jongdeok said sharply.

"What?"

"I'm Baekhyun," Baekhyun said firmly, stepping forward. He was used to people underestimating him because of his smaller build, especially next to his giant of a friend, but he'd never let other people's judgments take away his own accomplishments or deter him from his duties, and he wasn't about to start now. Not even for a prince.

"Ohh," Prince Jongdae said, letting go of Chanyeol to rest a hand on Baekhyun's forearm. His touch was light, hesitant, but Baekhyun could still feel the heat of his skin through the thin cotton material of his sleeve. He tried not to flinch. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—it's just . . . he looked . . . I didn't think—"

"It's a simple misunderstanding," Baekhyun said, a little stiff. "Think nothing of it."

"Still, I'm sorry. I'm _really_ sorry. Please, I hope you're not—"

"It's fine."

"Okay," Prince Jongdae said, drawing back, but he still looked unsure. Well. What else could he say? _It's not my job to make him feel better_ , Baekhyun thought. _I just have to herd him home_. 

"Sir Baekhyun," the Queen spoke up suddenly, "you and your squire must be tired from the long journey here. Why don't you rest up before the banquet tonight? It's being held in your honor, to welcome you to our kingdom. It's also a goodbye feast for our Jongdae." She had a smile like her son's, curling and infectious, and she was using it to relieve the tension in the hall. Quite effectively.

"We are much obliged for your kindness, Your Majesty," Baekhyun said, slipping on a small smile as well. "A bit of rest sounds perfect." Chanyeol nodded.

"Sehun," said the Queen, "will you show our esteemed guests to their quarters?" 

"Of course, Your Majesty," said the servant boy, Sehun. He looked at Baekhyun and then Chanyeol, doing that little half-bow—more like a slight bend—of his again. "Please follow me."

  


♚

  


"He hates me," Jongdae whined into his pillow, drumming his fists on the bed Sehun hadn't bothered to make this morning in their rush. His legs might have been flailing unattractively too, but Jongdae was too distressed to care.

"Probably," Sehun agreed.

Jongdae whipped his head up to face his manservant. "He _does_? What—did he say anything to you?"

"Um . . ." Sehun's lips were pressed together so tightly they disappeared into his signature frown. Objectively, Jongdae knew he wasn't conveying unhappiness or dissatisfaction—it was just a habit, something he did unconsciously. (In fact, Sehun's mother—Jongdae's favorite cook—used to say that they had mirrored mouths, that the corners of her son's lips naturally curved down, _tsk_ , where the little prince's tipped up, _see?_ —an indication of their vastly different fortunes, she would say knowledgeably, before Sehun would get mad and stomp away.) But Jongdae wasn't thinking very objectively right now, so all he got out of it was _oh my god, Sir Baekhyun must be so upset with me right now, so terribly upset!_

"I don't know," Sehun finally said.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Jongdae sat up, wringing his sheets anxiously. "Did he say something or didn't he?"

"He said . . . some things," Sehun said vaguely.

"Like what?"

Sehun shrugged.

"Oh my god, is this payback for this morning? I'm _sorry_ , okay? Now tell me everything."

Sehun sent him a smirk before tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I took him and that squire of his to their chambers. And I said, 'Here are your chambers.'"

Jongdae bit his lip. "And?"

"And . . . and then I said, 'If you need anything, just let a servant know. But not me, because I'm not your servant.'"

Jongdae huffed. "Brat. What did he say?"

"Your dumb knight said, 'I understand.'"

"And?"

"That's it."

"That can't be it," Jongdae protested.

"Well . . . his squire did say to me, 'You're very weird.' And I said, 'No, you're weird.' And then I left."

"That's really it?"

"That's really it," Sehun confirmed.

Jongdae sighed and flopped sideways onto his pillows. He knew he was being dramatic, but he couldn't help it. 

"Why do you care so much anyway?" Sehun said. 

"Hmm?"

"I mean, you're marrying the _king of Seoul_. Who cares about this one dumb baby knight? Technically he's your underling now, right?"

"I guess," Jongdae said. "But I offended him."

"So? He was rude too. You should just have him executed when you become queen or whatever. You can totally do that, you know."

"Consort," Jongdae corrected, frowning, "and I _know_ you're joking, but please don't go repeating that to him. Or anyone else."

"No promises," Sehun mumbled.

"You are right, though," Jongdae said after a moment.

"I know. Let's hang him."

"No, I mean—he was _a bit_ rude, wasn't he? I apologized. Many times!"

"Mm-hmm."

"And it was an honest mistake. I was just so excited, and I saw that man—and I thought—well . . . I _was_ wrong. But I apologized!"

"You sure did."

"So the _chivalrous_ thing to do would be accepting my apology, instead of being all . . . cold with me, right?"

"Damn right."

Jongdae sighed again. Sehun's deadpanned encouragements were sucking the energy out of him instead of adding any motivational value. He desperately needed some doggy friends. "At least we'll see him at the banquet tonight. Maybe we could start over."

"Give him a piece of your mind," Sehun said.

Jongdae hummed noncommittally. It wasn't a bad idea, he thought, if worst came to worst. Him, Sehun, Sir Baekhyun, and that squire, Chanyeol—they were all going to be stuck together for a while, and Jongdae didn't want any bad feelings to ruin this adventure before it even started. One way or another, he would talk to Baekhyun tonight and sort everything out.

  


♚

  


Baekhyun was looking for Chanyeol, whom he'd last seen chasing after a plate of chicken, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around.

"Good evening," said the Second Prince of Siheung.

"Your Highness," Baekhyun greeted, bowing.

The prince grimaced. "Please call me Jongdae," he said. "It'll be unbearable if we keep up formalities for the next few weeks."

"As you wish," Baekhyun said. Secretly he was glad the prince seemed to have _some_ sensibilities—it would draw too much attention on the road if they were constantly calling out his royal style. 

"Can we talk?" Jongdae said. Baekhyun nodded and startled when Jongdae suddenly grasped his wrist. Still, he let Jongdae lead him out onto the terrace, where they found an empty bench in a secluded corner. The buzz of the banquet faded into negligible background noise.

"Much better," Jongdae said, letting out a breath as if he'd been holding it in a long time. 

Without the festivities distracting his senses, Baekhyun took a moment to study the young prince. Earlier he'd only had time to notice Jongdae's welcoming smile—the one he'd directed at Chanyeol, Baekhyun recalled—but in the light of the moon now Baekhyun could see that it wasn't just his smile that stood out. There was something about the shape of his mouth itself, the way the upturns of his lips suggested contentedness even when the rest of his face was perfectly neutral. From this angle, Baekhyun could also see high, prominent cheekbones and dark, straight brows and a series of small marks that dotted his temples like constellations. 

He was kind of lovely, Baekhyun thought with a hint of pride—certainly a visual match for his lord, King Junmyeon.

"—hyun? Uh, Sir Baekhyun?"

He blinked. "Yes?"

"I . . . were you list—? I mean . . ." Jongdae cleared his throat. "I was just saying how I wanted to apologize, again, for this afternoon."

Baekhyun frowned. "You don't have to do that. I already said it's nothing."

"Yes, but it doesn't _feel_ like nothing," Jongdae pressed. "It feels like you're still upset with me, and I know we just met each other, but we're going to be spending a lot of time together, and I want us to get along. No, I want us to be friends."

Baekhyun blinked again. "Friends?"

"Yes!" Jongdae continued, not missing a beat. "Why not? You know, I think you're really cool. I mean, you're a _knight_. You have a code! You must have been to so many places and seen so many things and _done_ so many things to get where you are. You must have saved so many lives and helped so many people. You must have so many _stories to tell_. That's amazing."

It was almost sweet, Baekhyun thought, how frankly idealistic Prince Jongdae was. Baekhyun, of course, held deep appreciation for the values of knighthood, and it was true that he'd contributed to a handful of worthy causes. At the end of the day, however, he was a soldier—an elevated soldier, indeed, but still one who served his liege for honor and for glory. And at the end of _this_ mission, he was looking forward to his pension in the form of some land and title of his own—a different nobility than what the prince surely had in mind.

Now, Baekhyun wasn't petty enough to really hold a grudge over what happened that afternoon (he'd already forgotten about it the minute he lay down for a nap), but he was definitely a little shit enough to make Jongdae believe he did. Especially after encountering this unexpectedly naive side of the prince, he couldn't resist playing with him a little—just for fun.

"Ah, I don't know," he said after a long pause. Long enough that Jongdae started to squirm. Baekhyun hid a smile under guise of scratching his brow. "You . . . you really hurt my feelings."

"I'm sorry," Jongdae said again. It was fascinating, how quickly his excitement gave way to remorse. He looked truly regretful, and Baekhyun almost felt bad for what he was going to do. Almost. "I didn't mean to."

"It's not your fault," Baekhyun said graciously. "It's mine. Why couldn't I have grown as big and tall as Chanyeol? Look at me. It's no wonder you wouldn't think I'm a knight."

"It's not like that," Jongdae pleaded, his voice edging on desperation. "Honestly, I didn't even see you. He was standing—"

"Wow," Baekhyun said, looking down. "That's even worse. I'm so short you couldn't even _see_ me."

"No! Look, why would I—we're the same height! I wasn't calling you short—" 

"I guess it's true," Baekhyun continued with a deep sigh, turning away. "I'm just doomed to live in the shadow of my _squire_ for the rest of my life. What's the point? Why don't I just quit now?"

"Oh my god," he heard the prince whisper under his breath. "What is going on?" Baekhyun's shoulders started shaking with muted laughter. "Kim Jongdae, you idiot, shut up shut up _shut up_."

Baekhyun snorted before he could catch himself and almost immediately felt a warm hand cupping his cheek, tilting his face up. He met Jongdae's inquisitive eyes, and that was it—like water bursting through a dam, his giggles spilled out uncontrollably. 

"Yah!" Jongdae jumped up from the bench. The tips of his ears were turning red, and he looked at Baekhyun crossly. No, scratch that—he looked _pissed_.

"You're a . . . you're a clotpole!" he said.

"My apologies, Your Highness," Baekhyun said, coughing as he sobered up. He dipped his head. "I was just teasing. Please, forgive me—as I've long forgiven you. Promise." Baekhyun looked up again, extending what he hoped was a peace-offering smile.

Jongdae harrumphed indignantly and still looked a little irritated as he sat back down. After a minute, however, Baekhyun caught him smiling again.

"What?"

"Joke's on you," he said haughtily. 

Baekhyun doubted it. "How?"

Jongdae slid closer, until his shoulder bumped against Baekhyun's. "Only my friends are allowed to tease me."

"Oh no." 

"Yep." Jongdae nudged Baekhyun with his shoulder, once, then again. "Guess that means we're friends now."

"We just met," Baekhyun pointed out.

"I don't care."

"How about 'acquaintances'?"

"Nope."

"'Associates'?"

"What does that even mean?"

"I don't know," Baekhyun admitted.

Jongdae pouted. "What do you have against being my friend anyway? Unless you're still—"

"I'm not. Nothing, really. It's just . . . as my squire would say, we're kind of—kind of your, uh, babysitters."

"Babysitters!" Now Jongdae looked _really_ offended.

"Not babysitters," Baekhyun amended quickly. It wasn't quick enough.

"Babysitters! I'm not a _baby_. I'm twenty years old!"

"I know," Baekhyun said, shuffling awkwardly. Actually, he hadn't known. He wasn't even sure how old _Junmyeon_ was.

"But you could've said _anything_ —you could've said _bodyguard_ and I wouldn't have minded. But _babysitters_."

"Oh boy," Baekhyun said under his breath.

Jongdae stood up abruptly. "Forget it. You know, you _are_ a clotpole, and I don't care to be friends with you anymore. Good night, Sir Baekhyun, I'll see you on the morrow."

Baekhyun rubbed his temple as he watched the prince walk away. 

It was going to be a long road back to Seoul.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Jongdae-ah! More to come . . . soon!


	2. Chapter 2

"Are we there yet?"

"For the hundredth time, _no_. Sit down!"

"Rude," Sehun complained, drawing his head back inside the carriage and closing the window. He flopped back against his seat. "How much longer is this going to take? I'm so _bored_."

Sitting opposite him, Jongdae reached across the carriage to pat Sehun's bony knee. "A while," he said sympathetically. "We only _just_ left Siheung." It was true: They had departed early that morning, but Jongdae didn't think it was even noon yet.

Poor Sehun. Jongdae knew him well enough to know that underneath all that bravado and brattiness, Sehun was more apprehensive about this trip than any of them. While Jongdae had occasionally traveled here and there with his parents, this was his manservant's first time away from home—at all. And while Jongdae knew what to expect of his future, what he had to look forward to in Seoul, neither of them knew what was _really_ in store for Sehun.

When Jongdae decided to accept Junmyeon's proposal, he'd sat Sehun down for a talk. (He considered barricading the doors, too, in case Sehun tried to escape since he always got a bit antsy whenever there would be Feelings involved, but he then figured that would've been a _tad_ excessive.) 

"We've been together since we were children," Jongdae told him then. "You've always been by my side. Even though we're master and servant in name, you know that you're like my brother, right? And . . . and that I love you?"

"Ew, gross." Sehun ducked his head, pretending to gag, but Jongdae could tell that he was actually a little flustered. "Where are you going with this?"

"When I marry Junmyeon, I'll have to move to Seoul," Jongdae said, licking his lips, which seemed dry all of a sudden. "And I was wondering . . . I was wondering what you thought."

Sehun glanced up, a blank look on his face. "What I thought about what?"

"About . . . about moving to Seoul. I mean— _my_ moving to Seoul."

"Oh."

Jongdae searched Sehun's face, which remained impassive. _This kid._ He took a breath and continued, "But also, uh, you know, if you wanted to come. With me."

Sehun blinked. "Come with you?"

"You don't have to," Jongdae hurried to add, looking down at his hands. "I know your family is here. Your friends. Your whole life. You'll always have a home in Siheung, here in the palace, even . . . even after I'm gone. I would make sure that you're well taken of. My parents would . . . you know they love you too."

"Yeah," was all Sehun said.

"Yeah. Right. Well . . . I guess that's settled then," Jongdae said, trying to smile. He patted Sehun's hand and then made to get up. "I'll make all the arrangements."

"Wait," Sehun said, dragging Jongdae back down. "What's settled? What arrangements? Are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?"

"No," Jongdae said, confused. He couldn't think of anything that was less true. In fact, he was trying not to look too upset as he mentally calculated the cost effectiveness of gaining a husband but losing his best friend. "Of course not. But Junmyeon could be sending his man any day now, and I just want to make sure you'll be fine before I go."

"Please," Sehun scoffed, "I'll be great _wherever_ I am. You, on the other hand . . . as if you could survive a day without me. "

 _That's a gross exaggeration_ , Jongdae thought—but that wasn't the point. "What are you saying?"

Sehun rolled his eyes. "If _you're_ going to Seoul, _I'm_ going to Seoul."

Jongdae never cried— _never_ —but at that moment, his relief warring with disbelief, he allowed himself to be a little sentimental. "Really?" he said weakly. Wetly.

Sehun clucked his tongue and reached over, running his thumbs below Jongdae's eyes. His touch was gentle, belying his nagging words. "Look at you, you're a mess. Of course I'm coming with you."

"Besides," Sehun added later, after Jongdae made them cuddle for at least half a candlemark to make up for the trauma of near-separation, "someone's got to make sure you'll be all right. What if the King of Seoul turned out to be old and ugly, hmm? What if it's boring there? What if no one likes you? _What if the food sucks?_ Honestly, I can't believe you'd even consider going by yourself."

This morning, watching Sehun say goodbye to his tearful parents, Jongdae had wondered if he was being too selfish, too greedy. In Seoul he would have Junmyeon _and_ Sehun _and_ probably the whole household to look after him, and Sehun—Sehun would only have him. Jongdae would probably help manage the estate and act as an advisor for the king and perform other roles expected of the royal consort, and Sehun—what could Sehun do but take care of Jongdae, in his own ways, as he always had?

He thought that Sehun probably realized this too, hence his insistence on how much Jongdae needed _him_ rather than the other way around, and then he thought about how Sehun, despite this, was following him to Seoul _anyway_ , and his heart swelled with fondness for the boy he'd always considered to be his little brother. It might be selfish, Jongdae thought, keeping Sehun a while longer, but he would make it up to him. He'd be extra nice to Sehun on the road and extra, _extra_ nice to him once they reach Seoul. Sehun would never want for anything, not if Jongdae could help it.

So looking at Sehun now, restlessly turning this way and that during the bumpy carriage ride, Jongdae felt bad, as if he was already letting him down. There wasn't much they could do, and they still had a long, long way to go, but . . . 

Jongdae had an idea. He opened the window on his side.

"Excuse me," he called.

"Didn't I say sit d—oh, it's you, Your Highness." Poor Chanyeol too. He was driving their carriage and had also suffered Sehun's whining all morning. (Not that Jongdae _suffered_ , exactly.) "What can I do for you?"

"Can we take a break at the nearest town? Just for a few hours."

"Are you hungry?" Chanyeol asked, keeping his eyes on the road as he steered the horses. "We packed a lot of food."

"No, it's just—we're not in any hurry, are we? Sehun and I never got to go out much, so we'd like to take this opportunity to see . . . well, to see. The land. People. Places. Can't we stop somewhere fun for a few hours?"

"I don't know . . ." Chanyeol said. "Let me ask. Baekhyun! Yah, Byun Baekhyun!"

Jongdae watched as Baekhyun, who'd been riding ahead, turn his steed around and pull alongside the carriage, matching their pace now. He was breathtaking, Jongdae had to admit, looking every bit the part of a knight in a shining armor—if even if he wasn't, technically, wearing armor, since they were all dressed in plain riding clothes. Still, there was something about his cool, collected confidence and the way he easily commanded his horse that reminded Jongdae of the great warriors in all the heroic literature he used to devour.

Not that Jongdae would ever tell him that. He was still a clotpole, no matter how good he looked.

"What's going on?" Baekhyun asked.

"Poodle Prince here wants to stop at the nearest town," Chanyeol said, and Jongdae touched his hair reflexively. Whatever, he _liked_ his curls. "Do something 'fun' for a few hours."

Baekhyun looked at Jongdae, raising an eyebrow.

"Please," Jongdae said, pouting a little. Sensing Baekhyun's hesitation, Jongdae decided to play his trump card: "Look, I'll forget what you said last night if you let us do this, okay?"

Baekhyun sighed. He looked at Chanyeol, who shrugged back.

"Fine," he said.

"Yes!" Jongdae cheered. He knew it would work. He smiled at Baekhyun, genuinely pleased, before retreating inside the carriage.

"Hear that, Sehunnie? We'll get to take a break in a bit. Get off this carriage, stretch our legs, go exploring! What do you think, hmm? Excited?"

"Ugh," Sehun moaned, "we have to go outside?"

  


♚

  


It was past midday when Baekhyun finally led them to Anyang, a sizeable town east of the palace. He'd never been there before, but it was _just_ within the borders of Siheung, so he figured it was as safe a place as any for the princes to explore. (And yes, Baekhyun had quickly realized that it'd be foolish to think of Sehun as anything but another prince in his charge.)

After checking their carriage and horses with an innkeeper, they headed toward the town square. There were vendors selling food and various knickknacks on every street, and Jongdae kept pointing and shouting and dragging Sehun from one stall to the next.

"Look at them," Chanyeol marveled. "You'd think they've never even been _outside_ before. This is so weird."

"I don't know," Baekhyun said, as they trailed behind, "I think it's kind of cute."

He didn't mean to say that aloud, but there was something about Jongdae's excitement that caught him by surprise. Baekhyun had been around royals and nobles his entire life—his own family was full of them, in fact—and he'd never met one quite like Jongdae. The highborn people he knew tend to carry a certain restraint that governed all aspects of their lives, from thought to action. Everything in moderation, including moderation, it seemed, and so it was what he came to know and expect.

He didn't expect Jongdae. Was there anything the prince tempered? Certainly not the volume of his voice, nor the magnitude of his movements. Not his bizarre affection for his manservant, nor his obvious disdain for Baekhyun—at least until Baekhyun had given in to his puppy dog eyes and allowed their detour. He'd seemed pleased with Baekhyun after that, smiling brightly at him as they made their way into town—but now, again, he was completely ignoring Baekhyun as he tore through the street market.

Jongdae was a wild card. He sure wasn't going to make Baekhyun's job easy, but somehow Baekhyun wasn't annoyed. How could he be, when the prince and his misanthropic companion expressed such child-like wonder over badly bruised fruits and cheap paper products?

Like he said. Cute.

But—

"You sure about that?" Chanyeol suddenly countered, nudging Baekhyun. He tilted his chin toward a stall ahead, where an old lady just put her hands on Jongdae, grappling his arms. Jongdae yelped, struggling to free himself while obviously trying not to hurt her. Next to him Sehun was shouting, too, drawing attention from passersby and not really helping at all. 

"For fuck's sake," Baekhyun muttered as he darted forward, Chanyeol hot on his heels.

"Excuse me!" Baekhyun intercepted upon arrival on the scene, prying the woman off Jongdae. He slotted himself between them, holding her carefully at arm's length. "Whoa whoa whoa, everyone calm down. Grandma, what seems to be the problem here?"

"This rascal tried to steal from me! What kind of a person steals from an old woman?"

"What?" Jongdae protested over Baekhyun's shoulder. "I did no such thing!"

"I saw you take it. Punk! Give it here."

Baekhyun shared a look with Chanyeol, who nodded and gently pulled the woman aside. "Don't worry, grandma," he told her soothingly, "we'll figure this out."

Confident that there was no immediate threat, Baekhyun turned back to Jongdae. He raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Jongdae looked confused. "What, this?" he said, opening his palm to reveal a pendant. It was small, probably cheaply made, with an etching of some kind of four-legged beast—a dog or horse or something, as far as Baekhyun could tell. "I didn't steal it."

Baekhyun frowned. "Did you take it from her stall?"

"Of course I did, just now."

"Did you pay for it?"

"What?"

"Oh my god," Baekhyun said, bringing a hand up to cover his face. "You—you can't just take things as you please, Jongdae. You have to pay for them."

"Oh," Jongdae said in a small voice. His eyebrows drooped, and he looked so pitiful all of a sudden that Baekhyun almost immediately felt bad for shaming him.

"Yah, leave him alone," Sehun said, sliding in front of Jongdae, much in the same way that Baekhyun had put himself between Jongdae and the old woman earlier. Only he towered over _both_ of them. "How was he supposed to know that?"

Baekhyun stood a little straighter. "Uh, it's common sense?"

"Well, there's nothing _common_ about him, is there?" Sehun glared.

"Stop, Sehun," Jongdae said. "It's my fault. I—I didn't even think about . . ." He sighed, sounding frustrated. "Yet again, I've made a fool of myself."

Before Baekhyun or Sehun could say anything else, Jongdae was already stepping around both of them. He approached the vendor, who seemed calmer now that she'd been charmed by Chanyeol. 

"I'm sorry, grandma," he said, bowing deeply before presenting the pendant with both hands. "I didn't mean to steal from you. Please accept my sincerest apologies."

The old woman took the pendant back, still regarding Jongdae a little suspiciously. But all she said was, "Well, just don't do it again."

"I promise," Jongdae said solemnly, bowing again.

"Let's just go," Sehun said, wrapping an arm around Jongdae's shoulders and steering him away.

Baekhyun indicated for Chanyeol to follow, which he did after saying goodbye to the grandma. Hanging back, Baekhyun quickly surveyed the scene, noting that the onlookers had already moved on. No alarms had been raised, nothing unusual here. Then, before leaving, Baekhyun turned to the grandma and asked how much the pendant cost.

"Five," she said, holding up the same number of fingers.

Baekhyun dug a few coins out of his pocket, plus a little extra, and gave them to her. When he caught up to the rest of them a few moments later, the pendant was safe in his hand.

  


♚

  


"Here," Chanyeol said, handing Jongdae and Sehun each a small pouch. He sat down and smiled at them kindly. "It's not much, so don't go spending it willy-nilly, but it's good to have some money on hand."

"We'll pay you back," Jongdae said earnestly. He turned to Sehun. "Surely we packed . . . ?" When Sehun only gave him a blank look in return, Jongdae sighed. "Well, in any case, there's my dowry." Which, Jongdae abruptly remembered, was back on the carriage with the rest of their luggage and consisted of mostly jewelry, jade sculptures, and silver and gold ingots—everything precious and priceless and infuriatingly impractical at the moment. But there was no way he could just accept Chanyeol's charity. "I'll repay you. Somehow. Or—or if you can wait, in Seoul, I'll ask Junmyeon to—"

"Don't worry about it," Chanyeol said, waving him off. Then he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "It's Baekhyun's money, and his idea, anyway."

Jongdae looked up in surprise and then glanced over to where Baekhyun was buying them some snacks that Chanyeol insisted they had to try. ("You've never had hotteok?!" he'd all but shrieked in their ears. "My sweet, simple, _oh so simple_ friends, you've been missing out. Baekhyun, quick, we need to fix this. _Now_.") 

Baekhyun was chatting and laughing with the man making their hotteok, looking like he didn't have a care in the world as he easily befriended someone he just met. Why couldn't he have hit it off like that with Jongdae? He looked so different from the Baekhyun that Jongdae first met in his parents' court, who'd been cold and stiff; and from that night on the terrace, playful and irreverent; and from his steed on the road, noble and untouchable; and from the incident at the market, abrasive and insulting. And now he was giving them money and buying them food! How could someone change so much in the span of a day? Jongdae no longer knew what to think or expect of him, and it was _so_ annoying.

It didn't help that Jongdae kept embarrassing himself in front of Baekhyun, which irritated him to no end as he felt more childish and unworldly than ever. Junmyeon had said that Baekhyun was about Jongdae's age, but it didn't seem that way at all. The gap between them appeared so insurmountable that Jongdae wondered if they could even see eye to eye. If Baekhyun could ever see him as an equal, worthy of respect beyond his birthright.

And if Baekhyun couldn't, would Junmyeon? Sehun often teased him about how his husband-to-be might be different from his letters, but Jongdae suddenly had to wonder if he was the one who wouldn't measure up. 

He was barely out of his parents' nest and already struggling to find his feet. Maybe Sehun was right—Jongdae did need him more than he'd thought. Worse, maybe _Baekhyun_ was right—he did need a babysitter, a minder, a chaperone to make sure he wouldn't accidentally steal or be pawed to death by little old women.

There was moisture in his eyes, threatening to spill over as Jongdae juggled feeling annoyed, irritated, confused, embarrassed. How inconvenient it was that he was in public. He needed to get up, excuse himself, find somewhere to hide while he get his emotions under control. 

Just as he was doing that, rising out of his seat, Baekhyun appeared at his side.

"Eat," he said, waving something sweet-smelling under Jongdae's nose with one hand and guiding him to sit down with the other. Overwhelmed, Jongdae could only helplessly grasp the warm pastry, staring at Baekhyun as he distributed the snacks to Chanyeol and Sehun as well. When the others are distracted with their food, Baekhyun finally caught Jongdae's shining eyes. 

_Don't cry_ , he mouthed.

Aloud, he said, "Eat. It's good."

Jongdae took a bite of his hotteok, sniffling as warm, syrupy goodness filled his mouth and overtook his senses.

"Oh my god, are you crying?" Sehun exclaimed.

"I told you it'd be a religious experience," Chanyeol said smugly.

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit my definition of "soon" is a little loose. XD I didn't intend to take more than a month to update, but, alas, life happens. To post this part, I ended up cutting the chapters a little differently so that this is actually only _a third_ of what I originally outlined (so if it seems a little short, that's why!). Already working on the next part, which will come . . . at some point. Forgive me. ♥


	3. Chapter 3

The next day on the road passed without any more incidents. They were well outside of Siheung now but still a long way from Seoul, so Baekhyun wanted to move quickly and with extra vigilance. It was all going well and according to plan. He should have been glad. Except—

Something didn't feel right. Baekhyun couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew always to trust his gut. They'd rode steadily across the land, making better progress than yesterday, and it wasn't until he was watering his horse during a break in the evening, eyes on the silent carriage, that Baekhyun realized what was wrong with the picture.

The first day of their journey had been full of liveliness, from Sehun's constant questions to Chanyeol's irritable shouting to Jongdae's mostly ineffective attempts at entertaining his manservant, which had included teasing and storytelling and even a bit of singing, from what Baekhyun could hear. Today, none of them made a peep. Sehun seemed more tired than bored, dozing the day away with his head on Jongdae's lap the few times Baekhyun checked on them. Chanyeol, who didn't have anyone to banter with, filled the silence with food, munching on leftover hotteok as he steered the horses with ease. And Jongdae—Jongdae was strangely subdued as well, watching the outside world pass by his window without any of the wonderment Baekhyun had come to expect from him.

They'd traveled quietly, inconspicuously. Efficiently. Baekhyun should have been glad.

He wasn't.

Before he thought too deeply about why that was, Baekhyun called for Chanyeol. "Let's head into town for the night," he said.

"You sure?" From where he was treating the horses to some apples Chanyeol looked up at the orange-hued sky. "I think we can make it a little further before it gets really dark."

"It's been a long day," Baekhyun said simply, giving the prince's carriage a final sidelong glance. Sehun had came out to stretch his long legs, but Jongdae hadn't joined them at all. "Come on."

 

 

That night, Baekhyun woke up with a start. He was a light sleeper, often stirring at the slightest disturbance, so it wasn't at all unusual. He blinked blearily for a few moments and was about to fall back asleep when he heard another noise, similar to the one—he was pretty sure—that woke him up.

It was the sound of a set of doors sliding into place. Not the ones of the room he was sharing with Chanyeol, no—this was coming from the next room over.

Jongdae's room.

Baekhyun sat up immediately and grabbed the sword stowed by his bedside. His socked feet made no noise as he crossed the room in an instant and silently opened the doors. He stepped outside just in time to see Jongdae's silhouette disappear around the corner.

Baekhyun let out a breath of relief, having been prepared for the worst scenario possible—that an intruder had entered the prince's room on his watch. That clearly was not the case, though he couldn't imagine why Jongdae was up and about at this hour of the night. Was he by himself or was Sehun with him? Where were they going?

Baekhyun closed the doors behind him and followed the prince's path. It led him to a garden patch behind the inn. There Jongdae sat, alone, beneath the moonlight.

He looked ethereal.

Baekhyun cleared his throat, making Jongdae jump.

"Oh," he said. "Hi."

"You shouldn't be here alone," Baekhyun replied. It sounded a bit harsher than he intended. He only meant it generally—princes should _not_ wander around in the middle of the night by themselves, unprotected—but he couldn't help feeling bad when Jongdae winced.

"Sorry. I just . . . couldn't sleep."

Baekhyun frowned and Jongdae quickly looked away. He probably took it as a sign of reproach rather than concern, and Baekhyun wondered why things were constantly so awkward between them. Why were there so many misgivings in the brief time since they'd met? Why was it so hard for them to simply understand each other—and why did Baekhyun care so much that it was?

Investigating that line of questions could lead somewhere too dangerous to explore right now, so Baekhyun pushed those thoughts aside. Instead, he recalled the quiet, efficient, and _depressing_ journey they had earlier and decided he wouldn't be able to stand another day of it. Between the crying the previous day, the unexpected somberness, and the sleepless night, something was troubling Jongdae and Baekhyun had to know what. After all, he couldn't possibly deliver a broken prince to his sire, could he?

This wasn't a matter of _caring_ , necessarily. This was duty.

He sat down next to Jongdae and set his sword between them, easily within reach. Jongdae glanced at it wearily but didn't say anything.

"What's wrong?" Baekhyun said.

"What?"

Baekhyun looked at Jongdae, who was staring back at him with his mouth slightly open.

"I mean," Baekhyun tried again, "something's bothering you, right? To . . . keep you up. What is it?"

Jongdae still appeared to be shocked by the question, but after a few moments, he said, "Nothing. Just . . . thinking, I guess."

"About what?" Baekhyun pressed.

"Just . . . things," Jongdae said vaguely, waving his hand. "All kinds of things. In case you haven't noticed, I kind of have a lot going on right now."

"Okay," Baekhyun said. That was fair. The prince was leaving his home for the first time and traveling a long way to another kingdom. His anxiety was understandable. "Well, maybe it would help if you talk about these . . . _things_ . . . with someone."

"Someone," Jongdae echoed. "You mean you?"

Baekhyun shrugged. "Why not?"

"Please," Jongdae muttered. "Like you care."

 _I don't_ , Baekhyun wanted to say reflexively. Defensively. But the last thing he wanted to do was to continue their holding pattern, so he said, lightly, "I'm here, aren't I?"

He figured that Jongdae was someone who wanted to talk—who _loved_ to talk—and just needed a little push to get over whatever reservation he had before the floodgates would open.

"Okay," Jongdae said slowly, crossing his arms. His gaze was piercing Baekhyun now. "Fine, _Sir Baekhyun_ , since you're here, why don't we start with you?"

Baekhyun blinked. "What about me?"

"You want to know what's bothering me, right? _You_ are."

"I'm just trying to help," Baekhyun said, bewildered.

"I don't mean in this moment," Jongdae said, letting out a frustrated noise. "That's not—that's not what I mean. I mean . . . _who are you_?"

"You're not making any sense."

" _You_ don't make any sense!" Jongdae exclaimed, shooting up from the bench. Baekhyun watched, mildly alarmed, as Jongdae began to pace in front of him and list his grievances. "Okay, so we got off the wrong foot. It was my mistake, I apologized, and we were good. Then you were a clotpole, so I thought, fine, forget being friends. We'll just get through this. Then all of yesterday, you were nice and then you were mean; you defended me and then berated me; but you bought us food and gave us money; and you told me not to cry—which, by the way, I don't do very often, so what you saw was a complete fluke—" 

He finally paused to take a deep breath, but before Baekhyun could say anything, Jongdae held his hand up as a gesture of silence. 

"I'm not done," he snapped. "You're hot and you're cold. You don't seem to care about me beyond keeping me alive—which, thank you, I guess—yet here you are, trying to . . . I don't even know what you're trying to do. Make me feel better? Maybe you just want me to go back to bed so you don't have to sit here with me all night. You're charming with everyone else you meet, but not me, because you don't seem to like me for some reason. You _can_ smile and laugh and joke—and I thought I saw a glimpse of that directed at me before, but then you'd turn around and act like someone else. I never know what to expect with you, or _whom_ to expect."

Another deep breath, after which Jongdae seemed a little deflated.

"So," he said softly, "I guess what's bothering me is . . . I don't know who you are. And I don't know what to do with you."

Baekhyun stared. Well, he wanted the flood. He got it. "Are you finished?"

Jongdae nodded.

"Sit," Baekhyun said, tilting his head at the space beside him. Jongdae seemed to consider it for a moment before plopping down.

"You have . . . a lot of feelings for a such tiny person," Baekhyun commented. "No wonder you couldn't sleep."

"You're making a joke right now?" Jongdae said, unimpressed. "You think this is funny?"

"Kind of," Baekhyun said, smirking. Jongdae made to stand up again, but Baekhyun stayed his arm. "No, don't. Come on, sit down. You have to admit that rant was a little funny. _That's_ what's been keeping you up?"

". . . Partly," Jongdae admitted begrudgingly. "So take responsibility."

"I will. Is it my turn yet? Can I talk now?"

Jongdae huffed but nodded again.

"People are . . ." Baekhyun started to say but decided he shouldn't go with anything sounding remotely pretentious right now, lest Jongdae take his intention the wrong way again. He had a feeling this conversation would dictate how they interact with each other for the rest of the journey, so he had to get it right. He just had to speak honestly, so he settled for, "I am a normal person. I'm just me. There aren't multiple versions of me that you're dealing with. Like everyone else, I have good days and bad days, and I'm sorry if you've seen more than your fair share of the bad."

"Not bad, exactly," Jongdae interjected. "Just . . . confusing."

"You confuse me too," Baekhyun confessed. Jongdae glanced at him. "It's true! Somehow I say the wrong thing every time we talk. And the things that you think of as nice or not nice—or mean, as you put it—I never thought of them like that. Maybe I am harsh sometimes, more than I intend to be, but all I'm doing is looking out for you. I do want to keep you alive, Jongdae, not just because it's my job. I do . . . care."

"Oh."

"And . . ." Baekhyun paused, considering his next words carefully. "I do like you."

"You do?" Jongdae said, sounding rather hopeful.

"Sure," Baekhyun said with a peace-offering smile. "Listen, Jongdae. From now on, let's be friends, okay? No more awkwardness, no more misunderstandings. We'll be honest with each other. If you think I'm being a meanie, let me know. And if I think you're endangering yourself or all of us, I'll let _you_ know."

Jongdae laughed, hitting Baekhyun on the upper arm for the jab. "Deal," he said, sounding much happier than he'd been all day. Then, he added soberly, "I'm sorry, too, for all the trouble I've caused you and for . . . for being a brat. I guess I'm more sheltered than I thought, and realizing that has been . . . difficult." He sighed. "I still have a lot to learn. For example, how not to accidentally steal from hard-working grandmas."

"A very important lesson," Baekhyun agreed. "Hey, speaking of—I have something for you."

Jongdae raised his eyebrows. "What is it?"

"Think of it as a gift of friendship," Baekhyun said, pulling the pendant out of his pocket. He'd attached it to a thin strip of leather and was going to give it to Jongdae tomorrow to cheer him up anyway. "Ta-da! It's your horse thingy."

Jongdae took the trinket with a look of awe on his face. "When did you—wait, that's not a horse."

"Oh, really?" Baekhyun shrugged. "A dog? A poorly conceived cat?"

"This," Jongdae said haughtily, holding the pendant reverently, "is a lion. They are the kings of animals. I've read all about them."

Baekhyun looked amused. "As long as you like it. You nearly risked your life for it."

"I do," Jongdae said softly. He smiled at Baekhyun, blindingly sweet. "Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been two years since my last update, so I don't know if anyone is still reading this—if you are, thank you. :) I wanted to post a brief chapter in honor of Baekhyun's birthday and to say that I'm trying to get over my writer's block. I intend to continue writing and eventually finish this fic; I just can't make any promises about when. I appreciate your understanding and support. ♥


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